


Si Vis Amari Ama

by doctornemesis



Category: One Piece
Genre: Biting, Comfort/Angst, Declarations Of Love, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Power Dynamics, Rough Sex, Spanking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-01 22:33:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11496114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctornemesis/pseuds/doctornemesis
Summary: "You're a complicated man, aren't you, Marimo?""No more than you."---After Sanji's return, things just aren't right between them. Zoro finds himself attempting to fix it all, but he's having a hard time understanding justwhy, exactly. Until he does.





	Si Vis Amari Ama

**Author's Note:**

> **Si Vis Amari Ama** is Latin for: _'If you want to be loved, love.'_
> 
> Spoilers up to the most recent chapter, so be warned if you aren't caught up yet! <3
> 
> I do want to issue a warning that this story is not a depiction of a healthy, happy relationship. That neither character knows how to love or express themselves properly, so when I say dubious consent, I _truly_ mean it. If that is a triggering spot, please refrain. It's an abusive, unhealthy relationship.

The smell of broiled fish, steamed rice and pickled vegetables filtered through the air, mingling with the salt of the ocean that carried in on the light breeze of the early morning sun. Zoro, tired and stiff from his long post atop the crow’s nest, made his way down and towards the kitchen. He didn’t intend to enter the chef’s domain, merely wanting to catch a glimpse of the man who’d been separated from their group for what felt, oddly, like years. Zoro hadn’t intended for a lot of things, but life was full of unfortunate surprises, and this just happened to be one of them. A slender figure toiled over hot dishes, hands moving in sync as they always did while creating something that mingled excellently upon the tongue, but his back was tense, shoulders slumped forward, and his head bowed low.

 

Zoro didn’t find this acceptable. A man should never carry himself in such a manner, nor anyone with any semblance of pride, for that matter. The door swung open before he even realized he had done it, glancing at his traitorous left hand for a brief moment before continuing onwards with no plan or clue to speak of. Zoro felt an unusual series of emotions welling and bristling inside him as of late, and they were more than a little confounding for a man like him, and even  _ more  _ confounding the further his thoughts delved into the realm of his brain that contained all matters related to Sanji. A compartment within a compartment that had been expanding quite rapidly as of late and without his permission.

 

It was beginning to piss him off more so than usual.

 

“Did I say that breakfast was ready yet, shitty Marimo-head?” Sanji asked without turning around or otherwise acknowledging his presence. 

 

Zoro took the opportunity to smirk, even if only to himself, at the fragment of normalcy taking place between the two of them. Of course, Zoro also steeled himself to ruin any guise of such a thing. He placed his hands on either side of Sanji’s hips, pressing his front flush against the chef’s backside. Zoro felt the other man go rigid beneath his touch, the ceramic bowl that had once been clutched in talented hands crashing to the floor in a shattering heap. 

 

“Who said I wanted your shitty cooking, you shitty cook?” he asked, lips mere centimeters away from Sanji’s now crimson ear. “Maybe I just wanted to know whether or not you were a  _ good boy  _ during your time away?”

 

Sanji took a sharp intake of breath, reeling as he broke free of Zoro’s hold, aiming to take his head off. Zoro blocked the kick easily enough, fingers curling around the slender yet deceptively strong ankle beneath them, giving it a near crushing squeeze. Sanji cursed under his breath as Zoro let go. 

 

“ _ Don’t _ ,” he warned.    

 

“I asked you a  _ question _ ,” Zoro said, bumping their chests together in a mismatched sort of way. Sanji was tall, and his chest narrow whereas Zoro didn’t quite match up in height, but his chest was nearly double his size in width.  _ A stupid _ ,  _ distracting comparison _ .  “And I expect an  _ answer _ .” 

 

“I’m  _ not  _ in the mood--”  

 

“Answer. Me.”

 

“No,  _ okay _ ?” he shouted. “I wasn’t! And you  _ know  _ that!” 

 

Zoro ignored the sheer volume of Sanji’s voice in favor of keeping a neutral, if but slightly annoyed, face on. The finger that continued to jab him in the chest, on the other hand, grew to be a lot more difficult to ignore. Zoro took a deep, steadying breath just before he gripped Sanji by the wrist, wrenching it backwards as he smashed the chef’s face against the opposing countertop of the bar.

 

“I don’t know anything, remember?” he said, placing his other hand against the back of Sanji’s neck with ever increasing pressure. “You haven’t told me a goddamned thing. You’ve barely spoken to me at all since you’ve gotten back, you shitty cook.” 

 

“I’m sure they’ve told you all about what happened while I was gone,” Sanji spat, his upper canine protruding like a rabid dog backed into a corner with nowhere else to run. 

 

Zoro cranked Sanji’s pinned arm up another notch at the disrespectful backtalk. “Yeah,  _ maybe _ , but what if I want to hear it straight from your mouth, and your mouth only?” he asked, leaning forward so that he could then trail the tip of his tongue across the chef’s bloodied cheek.

 

Zoro couldn’t help but to wonder just how far that blush had spread. 

 

Sanji got off on being humiliated, on being perceived and treated as weak, and Zoro felt confident he now understood the  _ why  _ of the matter, but he wouldn’t be satisfied--nor would he relent--until all the pieces had fallen into their respective places. If he were to be honest, the thought of Sanji reliving past childhood trauma through sexual and emotional dalliances with him wasn’t as much a bristle as it was a rather large thorn stuck in his side. Zoro didn’t wish to judge; after all, Sanji hadn’t been the only participant in their trists, or whatever one wanted to call them, but he was sure as hell determined to understand.    

 

“At least lock the door and close the curtains, you big idiot!”

 

Zoro allowed himself the second smirk of the day as he pulled away from Sanji’s backside, moving to do what had been so politely requested of him. The others could wait until the two were finished, he determined, the food would stay well heated in their respective pots and steamers. Zoro didn’t know what, exactly, plagued Sanji’s spirit, but he planned to garner some insight into the matter. A part of him still felt irked, and might always when it came to someone as complex and aloof as the other man. The fact he even cared was another issue entirely. 

 

Zoro, having spent the most of his watch training and pushing himself both mentally as well as physically, wore nothing but a low-hanging pair of black pants. Sanji, on the other hand, wore no less than a three-piece suit and tie, every button fastened like an extra layer between them--a suit of armor to help shield himself away from all those who would dare to try and enter. Zoro determined that he would break down each and every barrier, one by one. He would show no mercy, and it would all boil down to love. Zoro  _ loved  _ him, he loved Sanji, and he wanted, more than anything, to get that across to the other man.    

 

Zoro knew swords, he knew violence and physical pain in the most intimate of fashions, but love and intimacy were lost on him. He felt, for the first time, unhinged and fearful. A part of him felt as unsure as it did unsafe, but somewhere he knew that he would face it head on. Sanji was worth the struggle, even if he, himself, could not yet see it. 

 

“Stand up straight,” he coaxed.

 

Sanji didn’t hesitate to do so, but he would not meet Zoro’s gaze as he did. Zoro gripped him by his tie, a ridiculous looking white and pink striped mishmash, forcing those steel-blue eyes to meet his own, impenetrable stare. The material was easy enough to remove as he turned his attention towards the brass buttons hiding away rich, pale and creamy skin. 

 

Zoro wanted nothing more than to slice through the opposing fabric, his patience wearing thin, but he figured the ensuing fight that would follow to not be worth his momentary lapse in judgement. Deft fingers worked to undo them, noticing that as he unfastened the last remaining button, that Sanji had bitten his bottom lip in between his teeth hard enough to draw a faint trace of blood. Zoro loved when he did that, a spike of arousal coursing through his veins. Without thinking, he brushed a stray strand of hair out of Sanji’s face, not wanting the other man to hide from him further. Sanji’s only visible eye slipped loosely shut, the dark blonde of his long eyelashes fluttering across his cheeks like the wings of butterflies, and what an unusual and disturbing thought that was for him. 

 

Zoro couldn’t resist kissing him then, and so he did so, giving into his own weakness for a brief moment. The stuttering groan that slipped through faintly chapped lips licked the flames that tore at Zoro’s insides. The idea that Sanji had been depriving himself of this ate at him, little by little. The voluntary suffering he had been subjecting himself to only added to Zoro’s desire to remedy all of this, once and for all.  

 

“Are you even going to try and resist me this time?” he asked as he slid both Sanji’s dress shirt and suit jacket up, over and down long arms, exposing a hard, lean upper body beneath. 

 

“ _ No _ ,” Sanji said, hissing through his teeth as Zoro tore his belt loose from its place. 

 

“And why not?” he asked, leaning down to nip and suck at Sanji’s neck and chest. 

 

“Because…”

 

“Because,  _ what _ ?” Zoro asked, relentless as he placed a ruthless bite to the other’s chest, right above his heart as his hands removed his swords with care, setting them aside with caution. 

 

Sanji cried out at the motion, hands clutching at Zoro’s shoulders with a desperation he hadn’t witnessed in some time. Sanji’s stomach clenched, abs contracting as he rocked forward into the pain, attempting to capture it fully. 

 

“ _Because_ _I’m weak!_ ” he gasped as the green-haired devil kissed, sucked and _lapped_ at the bruised and broken flesh, savoring every bit of it. 

 

Zoro often obsessed over the taste of him, a sharp combination of something salty and sweet, dampened by a thin layer of smoke and something wholly unidentifiable, but this was not the time for such soft musings. 

 

“And why are you weak?” he asked as he undid the button of Sanji’s slacks, undoing his zipper with ease. 

 

Sanji’s body trembled as he answered, voice barely above a whisper as he said, “Because I’m worthless.”

 

Zoro wondered, fleetingly, how often Sanji had heard those exact same words growing up under such a cruel and looming figure. He pulled down Sanji’s slacks and boxer briefs, intentionally brushing the palm of his hand over the hardening length of Sanji’s cock as the other kicked out of the constraining material. A soft, shame-filled moan tore forth through teeth-bitten lips. 

 

“And what do worthless boys like you do for attention?” he asked, whispering the last part of that sentence against Sanji’s ear, teeth skimming across the shell, causing Sanji’s head to tilt back slightly. 

 

“ _ Whatever _ they’re told,” he said, voice hoarse and broken as he spoke. 

 

Zoro threaded his fingers through wheat-blonde hair, a shiver coursing down his spine at the effect those words had on him. He hated himself for it, honestly, but he couldn’t refrain from doing so. Seeing Sanji like this...being the  _ only  _ one to ever see him like this, did something to him he couldn’t explain in words. 

 

“ _Good_ _boy_ ,” he said, voice menacing and deep as he turned Sanji around. “Now, place your hands on the counter, and bend over for me.” Sanji did as told, the length of his spine stretching like a long and narrow road as he leaned over, hands flat as they laid against the unforgiving whiteness of the countertop. “Now, tell me what you did.”

 

“You won’t forgive me if I do,” he said, and by the way he spoke, Zoro could tell that his teeth were chattering as he did so. 

 

Zoro took a deep breath as he focused a good deal of his strength into his dominant hand, drawing it back before reigning a single, hard smack across Sanji’s left ass cheek with a resounding sound that radiated around in the kitchen, coercing a deep cry from the other man. Zoro, fully hard by now, found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. He needed him to open up to him,  _ for  _ him.

 

“That’s  _ not  _ what I asked you,” he said, grabbing Sanji’s abused cheek in his hand, palming the mound of flesh with a rough touch.

 

Sanji whimpered as he held onto the counter with a desperate grip, a noise that went straight to Zoro’s throbbing dick. “ _ Please _ ,” he said.  

 

Zoro gripped him by his hair, forcing his head up just enough to look up at him. “ _ Don’t _ beg,” he warned.    

 

One warning. 

 

Just one.

 

Sanji knew better than to try and worm his way out of this. 

 

“I rejected them as my nakama,” he choked out, and Zoro could feel the waves of shame wash over him. 

 

Zoro did feel a prickle of anger trickle over him at that, but he couldn’t help it. Betrayal, even under false pretenses, tore at him and his black and white sense of right and wrong. Three strikes ascended down upon Sanji’s ass without mercy, propelling him further against the counter. His hands scrambling for purchase as he cried out Zoro’s name, over and over again. Zoro could hear Sanji’s breathing pick up along with his own--it was intoxicating. 

 

Judge, Jury and Executioner.

 

“ _ Why? _ ” he asked, tone chocked full of gravel, the length of his cock slipping in between Sanji’s abused cheeks, precome making the movement smooth as he sullied the man beneath him in the manner he so desired. 

 

“To  _ save  _ them from  _ me _ ,” he said, groaning as he pressed his hips back against Zoro’s, causing the swordsman to grunt low under his breath. 

 

“ _ Stupid _ ,” he said, bending down as he captured one of Sanji’s lobes between his teeth. “ _ Martyr _ . Do you think so highly of yourself?”  

 

“ _ No! _ ” Sanji cried out. “I wanted...safe. I wanted them,  _ you  _ safe. To forget.”

 

Zoro brought his hand down six more times, using his full strength as he did so, reveling in the sobs he heard wrenching from the other man. “ _ Coward _ ,” he said. 

 

Sanji whimpered again, sobs caught in between dry coughs as Zoro struck him another six more times at full force, spreading his legs further apart than they already were, and Zoro lost it. Lost himself in the ache of it all. The anger felt renewed, but different, heart wrenching at the loss that had threatened them. 

 

“Don’t you realize that you’re worth something to us,  _ to me? _ ” he asked, fingers coated in the light oil he taken from its proper place above the kitchen stove. 

 

Zoro was breaking character, he knew, but did so anyway. Sanji cried out as two fingers penetrated him at once, giving him little to no time to adjust as Zoro slid in up to his knuckles, scissoring him open. Sanji hissed at the same time he rocked back on thick, calloused fingers. 

 

“ _ I’m not! _ ”

 

“Shut up!” Zoro yelled, fucking him open slow and hard, and only in a way in which  _ he  _ could. “You’re an idiot who knows  _ nothing _ .”

 

Sanji could only cry out at that point, chest heaving as he sobbed and moaned and pleaded for more. Zoro added a third finger, much to Sanji’s dismay, holding himself back from punishing him in the way Sanji so desperately wanted. Sanji rolled himself back and forth, riding Zoro’s fingers for all that they were worth, a thin, sheen layer of sweat gathering in between his shoulderblades. 

 

“Tell me you’re worth fucking,” he said, holding on just long enough to demand something vital of the other man. “Tell me you’re worth  _ loving _ .” 

 

Sanji choked out another strangled cry, hips jerking as he gasped for a strangled gust of air. Zoro didn’t relent, one hand on Sanji’s narrow hip, holding him in place as he continued to fuck him open with the other, fingers slick as he curled them upwards, rubbing just so over Sanji’s prostate. He could feel the cook beginning to unravel beneath him. 

 

“I-- _ no _ ,” he moaned, head thrown forward against his forearm. “Love. I  _ love  _ you.” 

 

Oh,  _ fuck _ . 

 

Well, that threw a massive wrench into things. 

 

Zoro removed his fingers all at once, causing the body beneath him to groan and shudder. Zoro used a dab of oil to lubricate himself, precome seeping steadily from the tip of his cock, mixing together as his own pleasure dragged forth from the pit of his stomach. Before Sanji could question whether or not he wanted him, Zoro pressed the head of his cock into Sanji’s now relaxed hole with a firm, steady sort of pressure. 

 

“Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ ,” Sanji shouted, tossing his head back, inviting Zoro to resume his brutal hold on his disheveled hair, and so he did just that. 

 

Taking him from behind always served to reignite a primal lust within him, the image of him just like this had played in many a late night fantasy, but it no longer seemed to be enough for him in the moment. Zoro wanted, no needed, something else this time. Something  _ more _ . Both men groaned at the loss of contact between them as he pulled out, but Zoro made sure to cut the bereavement short as he spun Sanji around to face him, hoisting him up and onto the counter, strong legs wrapping themselves around the thick of his waist. Sanji gasped as he dug his heels into Zoro’s strong back as he reentered him, lips parted and lids heavy as he panted and groaned out in ecstasy.  

 

“I want, I’ve wanted you-- _ so bad _ ,” Sanji said, tongue flicking across his bottom lip as Zoro’s eyes latched onto the motion. “ _ Please _ .” 

 

The pleading. 

 

Oh, God. The pleading. 

 

Sanji pleaded to  _ no one _ , and yet, here he was, doing exactly that. 

 

Zoro held Sanji by his hips, thumbs digging in deep enough to leave dark, distracting bruises for  _ weeks  _ to come. A fact he would be proud of for  _ months  _ to come. A crowning achievement of just  _ who  _ owned the other.

 

Grunts, groans and curses were all that passed between them. Zoro took Sanji’s length in hand, jerking him off in a slow, steady rhythm, contrasting the fast, brutal pace of his thrusts. It had been too long, and he knew that neither one of them was going to last like this, but he never once relented. 

 

“I’m close. I’m  _ so  _ close,” Sanji warned, head slumping forward against Zoro’s bare shoulder. 

 

“Then come,” Zoro said, bringing Sanji’s mouth to his in a ravenous kiss. Teeth and tongue and a stifled cry as the blonde released in between them. 

 

Feeling Sanji’s body go limp under him was enough for Zoro to come deep within the refuge of Sanji’s body, legs shaking as he fought to keep himself upright. “Shit, shit,  _ shit _ ,” he gritted out through clenched teeth, his voice foreign to his own ears as he came down.   

 

The two caught their breath as a weight lifted between them. Like mentioned before, Zoro had no plan to speak of, but that didn’t seem to matter just then. The pieces had fallen exactly where they were meant to. He cleaned them both off as best as he could, searching around for most of Sanji’s discarded clothes and accessories himself. The other too busy cursing under his breath at having run out of smokes. 

 

After Zoro had zipped and fastened his pants, he removed two items from his left rear pocket, neither of which were for him. He placed the items down onto the bar, catching Sanji’s attention as he did so. A pack of cigarettes:  _ Death _ , one of only two brands the cook ever smoked, and by far his most preferred, and a flower. Myosotis, otherwise known as a  _ forget-me-not _ . A light blue flower that reminded him of Sanji’s eyes with a touch of yellow held in the center akin to his hair. The gifts didn’t make much sense to him at the time, he hadn’t understood why he had procured them, only that he felt compelled to. 

 

That, somehow, these gifts picked up along the way would coax Sanji back home. 

 

"You're a complicated man, aren't you, Marimo?"

 

"No more than you."

 

Sanji stared long and hard at the items. “Sola, do you know what it means?” he asked, finally. 

 

Zoro felt his brows furrow and his head cock to the side. “What?” he asked.

 

“ _ So-la _ ,” he said, more slowly this time around. “It was my mother’s name. Do you know what it means?” 

 

“I don’t,” he said, unsure and slightly unsettled. 

 

“It means,  _ she who is alone _ ,” he said, tapping his fingers against the countertop, trying to hold back a surge of emotion as he did so. “I don’t know how someone like her could have fallen in love with a man like my father, but even with four children and a kingdom under her fingertips, she lived, and  _ died  _ by her namesake.”

 

“You’re not alone.”

 

Sanj picked up the flower, a lone petal Zoro didn’t think he’d be impressed by. Honestly, he was surprised that it was the first thing he picked up. Certain that he’d reach for a cigarette first above all else, but the man was full of surprises, and they grew more frequent each and everyday.  

 

“I know,” he said as he trailed a thumb across Zoro’s brow, placing a gentle kiss against his lips as he pocketed both gifts with care. “Now, sit down at the table and wait for your food while I call down the two beautiful ladies we have onboard.” 

 

And Zoro, content with the turn of events that had taken place, did just that. 

 

“Oh, and if you think I’m going to be the one cleaning up all that glass, you’ve got another thing coming, mosshead.”  

  
  



End file.
